


Tonight We'll Dance

by Hllangel



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Awkward Sex, Bad Sex, First Time, M/M, No really it's terrible and awkward, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-31
Updated: 2014-01-31
Packaged: 2018-01-10 17:51:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1162714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hllangel/pseuds/Hllangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Nick hook up and stop talking. Harry isn't sure what's wrong, but he definitely needs to find out before he goes out of his mind. </p><p>Or, the one where Harry's bad at sex and even worse at pining.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tonight We'll Dance

**Author's Note:**

> Most of this was written before we knew that Midnight Memories video would be coming this week, so the timeline is a bit off, as I'd assumed it was coming mid-march ish. 
> 
> Many thanks to the wonderful [paperclipbitch](http://archiveofourown.org/users/paperclipbitch/pseuds/paperclipbitch) for her encouragement/beta/britpicking, even though she's not in the fandom anymore. Any remaining mistakes are my own. To Adam who lets me ask invasive questions about his sex life. And to all of my friends who had to deal with my sudden slide into this fandom. 
> 
> This is a work of fiction, and while there are real people involved, nothing is meant to imply that I have any sort of insight into what is/is not going to happen between all the people involved. 
> 
> Title from The Vamps, _Wild Heart_.

1\. 

"Aren't you glad we can celebrate on my actual birthday?" Harry asks, cornering Nick against the door to his flat. 

It's nearly 6:00 in the morning, the sky is threatening to erupt into daylight at any minute and it's now technically the day after Harry's 20th birthday. In general, though, Harry subscribes to the idea that it's not the next day until you wake up, and they definitely haven't been to sleep.

The drinks are starting to wear off, but Harry is still weaving a bit on his feet. Not that this is really any different from normal. His reputation for clumsiness isn't entirely unearned, though he does tend to move with more grace than expected when not blinded by stage lights these days. Nick knows this too, but he doesn't protest when Harry plasters himself to Nick's back, hands sneaking up under his coat and shirt as if he were cold, even though they've only really been in the open air for a minute or so, not long enough for the chill to truly settle under their skin.

It takes another thirty seconds for Nick to get his key in the door, just long enough for Harry to find the waistband of Nick's jeans and toy with it, digging digging his fingertips underneath the denim. He's not too far outside the boundaries they've carefully constructed yet; he wants Nick to be paying attention to him when he takes his running leap, not dividing his attention between Harry and the lock on his front door, and most probably Puppy once they get inside. 

Nick elbows him in the ribs as the door opens and they fall inside.

"That's not very nice," Harry says. "That's no way to treat me on my birthday." 

"Not your birthday anymore, popstar." 

"Haven't gone to sleep yet," Harry says, sloughing off his coat. He reaches for Nick's, trying to tug the heavy coat off his shoulders and down in one smooth movement, but only managing to pin Nick's arms to his sides and knock them both into the wall in the process. 

Puppy comes bounding out at them before Nick's managed to sufficiently untangle himself, so Harry abandons his quest to get Nick out of his clothes and bends to pick up Puppy, letting her lick his chin for a minute. He coos at her, and Nick does the same once his coat is hanging on it's hook. Nick lets her out into the back garden for a minute, and she comes right back in after she's done, the cold having gotten to her tiny body pretty quickly - her ears are cold when Harry bends down to pet her one more time before turning his attention to Nick again. 

Without the coats it only takes a few seconds for Harry to find the skin at Nick's waist, pulling himself in so that he can get at the small of Nick's back, stroking along his spine and watching for any sign from Nick that he's gone too far. 

It comes pretty quickly. "Hands off, Haz, you've had a few too many." 

"Not too many," Harry says, though the more pronounced slurring of his words is probably working against him. "Just enough." He doesn't pull back, though. He steps even closer, nudging his feet between Nick's and burying his face in Nick's neck. Nick smells of smoke and booze and sweat, and it's exactly what Harry expects. He probably smells the same, whatever cologne he put on at the start of the night is long gone at this point. 

Even when they're this tired, Nick is a squirrely bastard, and he manages to untangle himself and head off to the bedroom. Harry leans on the door to while Nick brushes his teeth and sheds most of his clothing, and then he's just standing by the bed and looking at Harry. 

"You know where the blankets are, yeah?" He asks. The question is rhetorical, because of course Harry knows. He's moved in here for weeks at a time, multiple times, whenever he's back on tour and his own flat is too big and lonely. It's irrelevant, though, because Harry doesn't want to crash on the sofa; he wants into Nick's bed. 

He doesn't move from his spot in the doorway, just watches as Nick pulls back the duvet and climbs in, not looking at Harry and probably expecting that Harry will be going off to grab blankets out of the linen closet by now. 

Nick's reaching up to turn off the lamp when he finally seems to realize that Harry hasn't moved at all. "Alright Hazza?"

"Don't want to sleep on the sofa," Harry says, slow and deliberate. He needs Nick to understand that this isn't a drunken wish, however much they've had tonight. "Want the bed. Want you. And your bed." 

Nick freezes for a minute, hand halfway to the lamp switch. "Yeah, alright," he finally says, pulling back the corner of the duvet on the other side of the bed. 

Harry stumbles forward and manages to get all of his limbs on the bed, more or less without hurting either of them, only stopping once he's literally sitting on Nick's hips, leaning forward with his hands on Nick's chest for balance. 

"You're a menace. This isn't what I meant," Nick says. He pokes at Harry's side. "On your own side." 

Harry rocks back to balance on Nick's hips and his own heels which frees up his hands. "I wore this shirt just for you," he says before grabbing hold of the flyfront and tugging it open, snaps giving way with a satisfying snick. He grins down at Nick, who is biting his lip from laughter. 

"Not sure that move did what you wanted it to," Nick says. 

Harry shrugs, because at the very least it got him naked. Or part way to being naked, at least. His jeans are still in the way, but he'll get to that. He grabs Nick's hands and puts them on his hips, demonstrating what he wants Nick to be doing on his own, and rocks forward, trying to get more contact. Nick's fingers tighten, letting Harry feel the pressure, if not the individual touches through his jeans. 

Harry watches as Nick pulls himself up into a sitting position, and Harry who is a genius at taking opportunities presented, lowers his mouth to Nick's, gasping when he finally makes contact, licking his way into Nick's mouth when Nick doesn't push him away but instead slides his hands around Harry's back. 

Nick's hands on his back feel electric, and he arches into Nick, pressing as close as he can, given their awkward positioning and the pile of duvet between them. It's not nearly close enough, but right now it's the best option because fixing it means moving farther away first. 

"You still have your shoes on," Nick says. "Take them off. And your jeans." 

"mmmhmmmm," Harry says, which is about the most coherent thing he can say at this moment. His jeans are tight by design, but they're too tight now, and the pressure is making him even more crazy. 

Nick pokes him in the chest to get his attention. "Clothes off, Hazza, before I change my mind." 

Harry doubts he'd actually do it, since Nick's not one to back down from anything, really, but Harry doesn't want to leave it to chance. He scrambles backwards and off the bed, nearly falling over as he attempts to toe his boots off at the same time. It takes a minute but he manages to leave his jeans and shoes and pants in a puddle on the floor, and when he comes back up he finds that Nick has thrown back the duvet and is waiting for him with a fond smile on his face. 

Instead of just jumping back on the bed, Harry circles around to the foot and crawls up from there, draping his body over Nick's and smiling wide as Nick's legs part so that Harry can fall between them and line up their hips. He's hard and he grinds down, supporting most of his weight on his elbows so that he can get better leverage.

He's fighting through a haze of alcohol and arousal and _want_ because he wants this so much and he's finally getting it, and on his _birthday_ , too, but there's something missing. Nick seems like he's into it, but Harry's not getting the response he wants. Namely, Nick's not fully hard. 

"Seems there's a problem," he says, bracing himself on one arm and reaching between them. He groans when he gets his hand on Nick's dick, squeezing lightly and burying his face in Nick's neck as his own cock jumps. He's close, so close after almost nothing because it's _Nick_. 

"I'm not a teenager, love," Nick says gently.

"Neither am I," Harry protests. He has just turned twenty. 

"Too right you're not. But I've had a few. It's going to take me a bit longer." Nick sounds gentle, and his touch is the same, his long fingers digging into Harry's hair and tugging him down for a kiss. Harry breathes into it and opens up as much as he can, wanting to feel Nick in as many places as possible. 

Keeping his hand on Nick's cock, Harry ducks his head down to Nick's neck and bites, scraping his teeth against Nick's skin and licking it in apology a moment later when he hears a sharp, "hey!" from Nick. 

From there he moves down Nick's chest, kissing and licking at his nipples, leaving a wet trail behind. By the time he reaches his goal, Nick is hard, finally, and Harry lowers his head to taste him. He hasn't actually done this before, but he's had it done to him and knows what he likes, so that's something to go on. 

He is actually nervous, the anxiety tamping down some of the buzz from the party and the booze, because this thing is bigger than he wants to think about right now, but he tries not to let it show too much. Instead he licks his palm and wraps his hand back around Nick, and then tentatively licks at the head of Nick's dick. He tastes like sweat and salt, not unpleasant at all. Harry could get used to this, he thinks as he closes his mouth and starts to suck. 

While he relies on his mouth to make a living, singing is in no way comparable to what he's doing now, and pretty soon his jaw is aching with the effort of keeping his teeth covered and attempting to keep up decent suction. Luckily Nick takes pity on him and tugs on his hair. 

"Come back up to me, love," he says. "I can't reach you." 

Harry goes easily, laying back down between Nick's hips and letting Nick sneak a hand between them. Harry moans when Nick touches him, and bucks his hips to get _more_. He can't ask for what he needs, he's too close to the edge already, but Nick seems to know anyway; he flips them over so that Harry lands on his back, Nick straddling his hips now. He's backlit, and Harry can barely see his face, but he's soon involuntarily closing his eyes so it hardly matters anyway. It feels like Nick's hands are everywhere, which is an absurd notion, but doesn't make it any less true in this moment. Harry grabs Nick's arms and holds on because that's about the most he can do. 

It isn't long before the rough burn of Nick's hands on his skin is bringing him to the edge. He pulls Nick down to kiss him, needing him right there as he goes over, spilling between them and arching off the bed into Nick as much as he can. Nick's hands are gentle, bringing Harry back once he's done, but he's still out of it enough to realize that Nick hasn't gotten off yet. 

"Let me help you," Harry says, pushing at Nick's shoulders so that Nick's on his back again. He curls into Nick's side, kissing his neck and using his hands on Nick's cock, a firm grip and slow movement. Nick is stiff under him, arm tight around Harry's shoulder, and a few pulls reaches down to twine his fingers with Harry's, guiding his hand. From there it doesn't take much longer, before Nick is coming, too. He's quieter than Harry thought he'd be given that Nick's pretty shouty in general, spilling over their fingers and sighing into Harry's hair. 

Harry uses a corner of the sheet to wipe them off, which earns him a muttered, "disgusting," but he can't really bring himself to care, or to move more than it takes to settle the rest of the sheet and the duvet over them, protecting them from the encroaching cool air. He falls asleep easily between one breath and the next. 

\---

Nick isn't in bed when Harry wakes up, which he thinks is horrifically unfair, because they both know how much Nick hates to wake up alone when someone's fallen asleep with him. And that isn't even to do with sex. Which Harry definitely wants to do again, so it's in his best interest to get Nick back as fast as possible. 

He brushes his teeth and wanders out into the kitchen where he finds Nick fully dressed and making breakfast. Harry steals a bit of bacon from the plate next to the stove. 

"Hands off," Nick says. "Or that's all you get." 

"You wouldn't." Harry backs off anyway, and goes to make himself some tea. There's always a box of his favorite in the drawer, but it's running low and he makes a mental note to get some more next time he's at the shop. Or he'll add it to Nick's shopping list somehow. If Nick keeps one, which he probably doesn't. Harry will find a way, though. Running out would be a travesty. 

They're silent for a few minutes while Harry's tea brews and Nick dishes up breakfast - if it can be called breakfast when it's after noon, and Harry thinks so since he's just woken up - but Harry does speak eventually. 

"You weren't there when I woke up," Harry says. "That was horribly unfair of you." 

"Can't laze about all day, Harold. I've a gig tonight and I don't have a set lined up yet."

Nick's voice sounds flat, like he's been drained of energy, or is fighting to keep from letting something show, and Harry's suddenly really sad that he's been away long enough that he can't recognize what's wrong easily. 

2\. 

Two weeks is too long to keep pretending that they don't remember Harry's birthday. And it just so happens that two weeks after his birthday is Valentines day. He has vague plans for a date tonight, if Nick will go along with it, but nowhere that's too public. Being out in public with Nick has never really been a problem, even though the tabloids talk about it for days after, generally. It feels like it might be different if they're printing the truth, even if they think it's still just speculation. So his plans this time include a private dinner at home, and a homemade cake in the shape of a heart because there's only so many cheesy gestures Harry can resist. He's only human. 

He shows up at the studio during Showquizzness, and hides out of sight until Nick wins and launches into a new song. There's no one in the studio today, even though there's supposed to be a guest DJ for the Nixtape, but the guest (Harry can't remember who) had cancelled, so Harry thought he'd come by and be the guest. It's just like the old night time days, no one knew he was coming in, and he just walks in unannounced. 

"What are you doing here?" Nick asks. 

"You need a guest DJ and I've nothing better to do this morning." Harry shrugs and drops into the chair next to Nick. "I made a playlist and everything." 

Nick unfolds the paper Harry's just dropped on his board and snorts. "Your taste in music is appalling. I can't unleash this on the nation on Valentines day." 

The song switches and Matt speaks, "Three minutes to the Nixtape. Do you want to do this officially, Harry? Switch on the webcams and everything when we get to your part?" 

"We are not playing this list," Nick says. "It'll be a supervised set." 

"Alright," Harry says. He doesn't really care what music is played, he just wants to spend the time here with Nick, and this is a pretty convenient excuse. He picks up a pair of headphones. "You can turn on the webcam too." 

The song is coming to an end so Nick puts his own headphones back on and Matt turns on the webcam. 

"Coming up we've got the Nixtape, a full hour of nothing but good music with a very special surprise guest DJ. Well, we'll call him a DJ in training because his taste is absolutely appalling, especially considering his day job, but first we're going to Tina Daheley with the news." 

Harry kicks him under the table, his legs barely reaching enough to make contact, but Nick gives him a look and Harry knows he's gotten the point. He launches into the first song straight out of Newsbeat, and Harry shucks his headphones to come back around and lean on Nick's shoulder where he's reading the tweets and texts Fiona highlights for him. 

So many tweets say terrible things about Nick, which Harry hates, but there's not much he can do other than discreetly stroke the skin behind Nick's ear, and even that doesn't last long when Nick bats him away. Harry gets it, he does. He suspects that Nick's thoughts are mirroring his own, but there's a not so small part of Harry that wants to just say fuck it, and let the tabs and blogs say whatever. But he can't always pretend that it doesn't affect him, or _them_. 

There's an extra pair of headphones next to Nick, which Harry picks up as Nick fades out the song. "So we're getting quite a few tweets asking us to play Harry's list, ridiculous as it is. But this is the Nixtape, and I promised you an hour of good music." 

"It's not that bad," Harry says.

"No, I've seen the list, it's not good," Matt chimes in. "Can I post it?" 

"I had planned on playing it," Harry says. "So they'd have found out anyway. I'll post it myself." 

"Well then, check Harry's twitter or the Radio 1 Breakfast twitter to see what disaster you narrowly avoided." He kicks Harry as the next song comes up. 

Harry wanders over to Fiona's desk to see what texts are coming in, and there are a ton of questions to ask him, but he's glad that they're not doing a huge amount of talking at this point in the show. He's answered most of the questions before, and then there are a lot asking about his plans for tonight, which are definitely not something he's answering on radio. 

By the time they're ready to leave, Harry is vibrating. He nearly shoves Nick out the door after they've said hello to Fearne and goodbye to the Breakfast team. He's taking Nick to brunch as an apology for crashing the show, if nothing else. Brunch in public is inconspicuous enough, and Harry can tell Nick to cancel his other plans for tonight. If he has any. 

They're halfway through eating when Harry finally brings it up. "Any plans tonight?" 

Nick shrugs. "Aimee's having a party. Thought I'd swing by her place." 

"Come to mine instead. I've ordered dinner in." 

"You were planning on spending tonight alone?" Nick asks, seemingly surprised. 

Harry smiles easily. "No, I was planning on spending it with you. So say yes." 

"You're really good at last minute, aren't you? What would you have done if I'd said no?" 

"Eaten all the food myself and then come down to Aimee's party to find you." 

Nick stops eating and just looks at Harry, a weird expression settling into his features. Something like disbelief or doubt, Harry thinks. But Nick covers for it quickly and laughs. 

"So, you are dictating what I do with my evening. What if I'd made other plans?" 

"But you didn't, so there's nothing to worry about." 

Nick hesitates still. He cuts his eyes away, like he's about to lie about actually having plans, even though he'd just said that he didn't. After a few seconds he deflates a bit, as thoug he's lost a fight. "Alright, you win, Harold. I'll come round yours tonight." 

"Bring some wine," Harry says, flashing a grin at him. He wonders if there are any photographers hanging around to catch what must be pure joy on his face, since he's certainly feeling it. 

\---

Nick shows at half seven, carrying a bottle of wine in a red gift bag. Harry doesn't let him get further than two steps inside before he has his arms around Nick, giving him a quick kiss on the mouth; it's a declaration of intentions more than anything else, but he has to give Nick some warning. 

"So this is a date?" he asks. 

"I made a cake and everything. It's a heart. Come see." Harry takes Nick's hand and leads him into the kitchen, where the cake is on display on the counter. He'd managed to restrain from piping something truly sappy on top, but it was close. Instead, it's covered with atrociously pink icing. 

Nick doesn't respond except to squeeze Harry's hand before dropping it so that he can take off his coat and scarf. Harry opens the wine and pulls out two glasses. "Cheers," he says tipping one towards Nick. "Dinner's in the oven, but it needs a few more minutes." 

Harry sips at his wine while he waits for the timer to go, and Nick does the same. They both have their phones out. Harry replies to a few random people on twitter, wishes everyone a Happy Valentines Day, and posts a picture of the cake (filtered to make the pink even worse) to instagram, where it gets immediately liked thousands of times, and the comments get flooded with speculation about who he made a cake for. Some are the truth, and some of those are downright nasty about Nick. He hates when he sees those, because Nick really is one of his favorite people. 

They talk, Harry shares some of the more insane tweets, and then the more insane gossip articles which cropped up approximately ten minutes after he'd posted the cake. They do put their phones away for dinner, though. And after, Harry doesn't give Nick a chance to fish his back out of his pocket, because he pounces as soon as they've cleared the table. 

He uses his whole body as much as he can, pressing into Nick and crushing their mouths together. It feels good, like he's been missing something the last two weeks of pretending they hadn't done this. They've only split one bottle of wine between them, so there's no possibility of plausible deniability this time, which is how Harry wants it. It's a gamble, but all things considered he thinks it's a fairly small one and that the odds are in his favor. 

Nick's holding him tightly, fingers digging into Harry's hips. "Are you sure?" he whispers against Harry's lips. 

Instead of answering, Harry pulls him closer and starts stumbling backwards towards his bedroom. They can save the cake for after. It'll be better then anyway. They bump into the wall several times, but Harry tries to make it so that he's the one taking the damage, even though it doesn't always work and Nick ends up bumping his hip into the bedroom door frame, which causes him to pull back and swear loudly. 

"I'll kiss it better," Harry promises, reaching for the zip on Nick's jeans so that he can make good on it. He tries to slide down to his knees while he takes Nick's jeans down, but he falls more than slides and hits the floor with a giant crash. His knees will probably be bruised tomorrow, but right now he can't be bothered to care about it, because he at least did manage to get Nick's pants down to his thighs, freeing up his erection for Harry to have his way with. 

He flattens his hand on the underside of Nick's cock, pressing it to his belly while he kisses the red skin of his hip where it had come in contact with the door frame. It doesn't take too long for Harry to start licking at the skin there, moving closer to his actual target. Before he can get there, though, Nick's hand is in his hair tugging him up. 

"What?" He asks, puzzled, because he'd thought things were going well. They were definitely going where he wanted. 

Nick kisses him gently, and then pushes him towards the bed. "Patience, Haz." 

Harry nods and stands up, stripping off his shirt and jeans while Nick does the same. And then they're standing next to the bed, naked, not touching. Not doing anything. Harry suddenly feels weird about what his hands are doing so he crosses his arms and waits. 

This time, it's Nick leaning in to kiss him first, pulling Harry closer with hands in his hair and on his back. It's slightly awkward as Harry tries to untangle his own arms between them, but once he does he can press his entire body against Nick's. He groans. This is perfect, the two of them, alone, with no space at all between them. 

"On the bed, love," Nick says, already moving them that way. The edge of the mattress hits just below Harry's knees and he falls backwards, Nick landing on top of him with a soft oomph before scrambling backwards and telling Harry to make himself comfortable, and stay where Nick puts him, which is the middle of the bed, a pillow pulled down from under the duvet for his head. 

Harry tries to pull Nick down on top of him, but Nick just kisses him once and turns around, laying next to Harry and curling his hand around Harry's dick. Harry gets the picture pretty quickly and twists his shoulders so that he can grab Nick's hips at the same time. 

He can't help the groan that escapes when Nick's mouth closes around him, and he stills for a minute, just enjoying the sensation. When Nick starts moving his hands in counterpoint, Harry takes the hint and does the same. 

Nick is hard and hot in his hands, and Harry explores slowly, wanting to memorize the shape and feel so that he can remember this when he's away for months at a time. He smears the tip against his lips and opens his mouth taking Nick in, getting used to the taste. It's not that he hasn't tasted himself before, it's just that it's different when it's coming from someone else and not through a haze of post-party drunkenness. Harry decides that he rather likes it, and takes more of Nick into his mouth. 

It's more difficult than he'd anticipated, especially when he's being driven out of his mind by Nick working on his own cock. It's going to be over far too fast for his liking, so he concentrates on trying to get Nick on the same level. He tries to keep his teeth covered, but he slips, and Nick's hips jerk quickly. Harry pulls back for a minute, keeping his hand moving in as much of a rhythm as he can manage. Which, admittedly, isn't all that great at the moment. 

Nick pulls back too, and Harry whines at the loss of contact at the same time Nick grinds out, "Hazza, come on." 

Harry wraps his arms around Nick's thigh and bends his head back to take Nick into his mouth. It's difficult to get much of Nick into his mouth, and a wrong movement, too quickly has him gagging a bit; he tries to cover it by pulling back and using his hand to cover the rest, but it's not a great substitute when Nick is doing something wicked to his tongue that is threatening to take all of Harry's muscle control away from him.

A few more seconds and that's it for Harry, his orgasm ripping through him with every swipe of Nick's tongue on him, leaving him shaking and utterly failing to live up to his end. His hand is wound tightly around Nick, his other hand digging into Nick's thigh, probably leaving bruises. Instead of trying to coordinate himself enough to take Nick's cock back into his mouth he moves down to Nick's balls and sucks one into his mouth, pressing and moving with his tongue, feeling it roll around in his mouth. 

Nick reaches down to tangle his fingers in Harry's hair, petting him for a minute before moving to lace his fingers with Harry's on his cock, pulling and twisting their fingers in unison, controlling the movement so that all Harry has to do is hold on and watch. Nick comes a minute later with a sharp gasp, pillowing his head on Harry's thigh and breathing heavily, tickling Harry a bit. He can't help the giggle he lets out. 

Harry is already drifting off into the afterglow when Nick shifts next to him and curls himself around Harry's back, breath cooling the curls at the base of Harry's neck, making him shiver. Nick settles a blanket over them and that's the last thing Harry remembers. 

\---

He doesn't wake up alone this time, which is nice. He's still being spooned by Nick, having seemingly not moved since they fell asleep the night before. He twists in Nick's arms, careful not to jostle them too much, and finds that Nick is awake. Harry kisses him gently, not wanting it to go anywhere really, just enjoying waking up with someone in a way that's more than just coming to after a drunken night out. 

He doesn't want to, but he eventually has to get up to take a piss, and it's the hardest thing he's done for a while. Nick's skin is warm and inviting, and Harry wants more time to explore, to learn the creases of Nick's body, learn how to drive him crazy. But the peace of the morning is shattered when Harry gets back from the toilet and finds Nick sitting on the bed in his pants. 

"You can't have anywhere you need to be this morning," Harry pouts. He sounds every bit the petulant teenager he isn't anymore, but he doesn't really care. 

"Collette promised to look after Puppy overnight, but I can't just ask her to stay all day, and it's already nearly eleven." 

"Let me shower and I'll come with you," Harry says. He darts in to kiss Nick again, to make his point even clearer. 

Nick purses his lips and shakes his head. "I've plans with Aimee later. I'll call you, though. We'll do something this week."

When Nick kisses him this time, it's long and lingering, like he doesn't want to let go. And Harry can sympathize. He'd wanted to spend the full day in bed with Nick, and it's being ripped away from him. 

"You'd better."

3\. 

He gets a text from Alexa at 8:00 on a Saturday, telling him that they're on their way to dinner, and that he should join them, since she's on her way back to America in a few days. He's heard nothing from Nick all week, but Alexa's his friend, too. And so are all the rest of the people on the list she's texted him. 

It's a fairly small group, but somehow Nick manages to stay on the other side for most of the night, circling around whenever Harry gets close to talking to him. More than anything else, it's Nick's refusal to even talk to him that's bothering Harry. Even if he isn't used to it, he _can_ deal with being told no. He just wants to know one way or the other. 

It's near 1am by the time he manages to get a seat next to Nick on the couch in the club, and they're both far too pissed to actually talk. Harry slings a leg across Nick's lap as he makes himself comfortable sitting the wrong way on the couch. Nick's hand lands on Harry's knee and stays there as they sip their drinks and chat with the people around them, but not to each other. It's familiar and comfortable to sit like this, but there's an edge to it. Harry thinks they're going through the motions because they're too drunk to remember not to, but not drunk enough to break and actually deal with the situation. 

They're also not alone, which is a big part of the problem. He doesn't think their friends would really care, aside from getting angry over how this has affected their friendship, but that doesn't mean that a club is a good venue for a conversation. Sound doesn't carry far over the music, but discussing anything personal in public is a bad idea. Unfortunately, it's the only place he's been able to get near Nick lately. 

By the time they're chucked out, Harry is even more drunk, which makes him even more prone to hanging on to any part of Nick that he can reach. Currently, he's got an arm around Nick's waist, fingers curling possessively into the slot between his ribs and hips, and his other hand is grabbing at Nick's, though he can't quite seem to get a firm grip on it because his fingers aren't listening. A cab pulls up and they stumble inside, piling on top of each other in the back seat. It's so normal and perfect that Harry can't remember why he shouldn't lean over and put his mouth on Nick's. And it seems like Nick's feeling the same way, because he doesn't tense up or pull away. In fact, he only moves back far enough to give the cabbie his address before drawing Harry back in. 

Harry's lips are red and swollen by the time they get back to Nick's flat and stumble inside. Puppy greets them and Nick lets her out into the garden, tapping his foot while he waits for her to come back inside. Harry leaves a trail of his clothes through the flat on the way to the bedroom so that he's Naked by the time Nick joins him there, well on the way to matching Harry's state of undress. 

They don't talk as Nick tumbles down on the bed and on Harry, and they don't talk in the morning when Harry gathers up his clothes and goes in search of a hangover curing breakfast, alone. Nick sits on the far side of the bed facing away from Harry and doesn't try to make him stay. 

4\. 

Harry leaves london and takes over Gemma's kitchen, flat, and life for about a week before she asks questions. 

"Go away, Haz. I've work to do." 

"I can't spend time with my big sister because I love her?" 

Gem pokes him in the side before hugging him close. "Go bother the lads. Or Nick. They've much more free time to spend with you." 

Harry can feel himself actually pouting, and if he's closer to the edge of a temper tantrum over this thing with Nick then he's not going to say that out loud. "Nick's busy," he says. It's the closest he can come to describing what actually happened. 

Gemma seems to get what he means anyway. "That cake was for him wasn't it?" She gathers him close, but for once he doesn't want it, and pulls away. 

"You know it was, Gem." 

"And he said no?"

Much as Harry loves his sister, there are still some things that one doesn't discuss in detail with siblings. Instead of giving her a full-on retelling (he's been told his stories take too long anyway), he settles for, "Not exactly. But he hasn't talked to me since." 

This time he doesn't resist when she hugs him tightly. "Go bug mum, then. Or go somewhere else. You've got piles of money, a passport, time off and a gorgeous car in California." 

5\. 

Harry goes because they've got a few weeks before they start the tour rehearsals. They've submitted set designs already, and picked their opening act, but rehearsals and the Great Setlist Debate which happens every time, isn't on the schedule until after the next single comes out. With nothing left to do, and no one really hanging around London, Harry books a flight for California, tired of the dreary weather in London. 

He's still not old enough to drink, but there are some over 18 clubs he can get into, and if he ditches his trademark hairstyle, he doesn't really get recognized. Either that, or people just leave him alone out here, because it's LA and they're all used to it anyway. 

If he gets blown in the back room of a club in West Hollywood by someone tall and skinny with his hair sticking up off his forehead, then it's no one else's business. It's reckless, he knows, but it never hits the papers. 

He stays in LA enjoying the perpetually perfect weather until a few days before he's due back for promo work, and he books a flight with just enough time to get over his jet lag, spending the extra few days camping out at his mum's house and ignoring London altogether. 

Gemma must have told her that something had happened because she doesn't switch on Radio 1 at all while he's at home. 

6\. 

They're on a break between interviews when Niall wanders over to Harry by the buffet. He grabs a sandwich and takes a bite before he speaks. "Ready for tomorrow morning?" 

Harry's puzzled, and pulls up his phone to check, because the last time he'd looked at his schedule for the next few days, he had the morning off. They're launching the single tomorrow, and they've all been booked on all the radio shows and talk shows. Harry was booked with Liam on Scott Mills show later in the afternoon. Even after the last month, he had been expecting to be on the Breakfast show, but they hadn't called. "What's tomorrow morning?" 

"Radio 1 Breakfast. I expected that they'd have got you in there, too." 

"I've got nothing," Harry says, waving his phone in Niall's face. He's probably moving too fast for Niall to actually see the gaping hole in Harry's calendar, but Niall seems to get the point anyway, and shrugs. "What time are you going on?" 

"Going in at 8:00. Sure you don't want to tag along? They love you over there." 

Harry bites his lip. "Maybe," he says. It's hasn't been that long since he'd snuck into the studio, but he's not sure he'd really be welcomed with open arms this time, security concerns aside. "I could always use the sleep." 

Niall wanders away after that, which is probably a good thing, because he'd probably start asking questions about why he's been booked on Breakfast instead of Harry, which isn't a story Harry wants to tell when they're surrounded by press, even if they're not currently hooked up to any microphones. It's not really something he wants to talk about at all, not until he sorts out exactly what's happening in his own head, nevermind what's been going on in Nick's. They've still got a few minutes before they're expected again, so he grabs a bottle of water and ducks away to the toilet for a minute by himself.

When he comes back out he's got a wide smile on his face, and only needs a brief stop at Lou's station to fix his hair before he's back in the chairs as if nothing's wrong. The interview is pretty much the same as all the other interviews he's ever done. They talk about filming the video on Tower Bridge, what it's like to have a harder edge on the music, what they've been doing with their time off. It's fairly standard, and Harry doesn't have to put too much thought into his answers, since the press have mostly followed his every move back and forth. If Niall and Zayn notice that they're both talking more than usual to cover for Harry's short answers they don't bring it up. 

Or, most likely, Niall's already told Zayn about the Breakfast show. They'll know it's eating at him, even if they don't know exactly why. 

By the time he gets home and scrubs the makeup off his face he's got a plan. He texts Finchy to see if it'll work. 

\---

Harry's new morning schedule means he needs to be up for 8:00, but he's awake much earlier than that anyway, skulking around his house until he's sure that Nick's at the station before grabbing his laptop and going to Nick's. Puppy is happy to see him, at least, so he sets up on the sofa and cuddles Puppy while he turns on the radio and listens to the news and the opening link for the Breakfast show.

Nick sounds like nothing's wrong as he plays the opening records and teases listeners about which Direction will be coming into the studio. He knows they all expect him to be there, if his twitter feed is to be believed. He wonders how angry they'll all be when it's Niall on the webcam instead. 

Finchy calls just before eight, barely doing more than establishing that the connection is good before putting Harry on hold. Harry briefly considers trying to disguise his voice, but knows that probably wouldn't work, because Niall will recognize him right away no matter what he does. Probably Nick, too. 

Harry pulls up the webcam while he waits and puts it on mute, since he's got the sound coming through his phone. He watches as Niall and Nick banter about the single, as Nick teases Finchy about his crush on Niall, and watches as Niall folds Finchy into one of his trademark hugs, before they get down to the business of answering a few calls. 

"So we've got two callers with interesting questions for you this morning, Niall," Nick says. First is Beth in Glasgow. Hiya, Beth!" 

"Hiya!" She sounds bright and cheerful, giggling as she gets her question out and chats with Niall. Between Nick and Niall she barely gets to speak, but it's a good question, Harry thinks. He's not paying much attention to the words at this point, he knows he's up next, and his hands are shaking. He tightens his grip on the phone so that it doesn't slip. 

"Next up we have Harry in London." 

"Harry, really?" Niall asks.

"Finchy, is this person really called Harry?" 

"That's what they told me." 

"Right then," Niall says. "Hello Harry in London." 

Harry swallows hard, takes a deep breath and starts talking. "Hiya Grimmy, Hiya Niall from One Direction." 

He watches as Nick's face freezes for a split second before burying his head in his hands. "Is that… Is that Harry Styles? Finchy, you didn't tell me that Harry Styles was calling in." 

"Harry Styles didn't tell me he was calling in," Niall says. "You're up early, Harry." 

"Yeah, well I wasn't invited in to the station to throw things at Grimmy this morning, so I had to find an alternative."

"You are terrible, Harry Styles. I hate surprises. You know that." 

"Yeah, but your listeners love it." 

"Yeah," Nick agrees. Matt and Fiona and Ian chime in their agreement as well. "Niall did you know about this?" 

"I had no idea. Until yesterday I'd assumed he was coming in here with me." 

"Why is that?" Harry asks. "I'm gutted that you'd choose Niall over me. Everyone knows I'm your favorite." 

There's a pause, a second of dead air space, and Harry can see Nick biting his lip. Fiona covers for him. 

"Yeah, but Niall is Finchy's favorite, innit? Thought we'd let him bask in the warm Irish glow of a morning. Let Matt finally meet his hero." 

"Much appreciated," Matt says. "Maybe I can finally get Niall's number." 

They all laugh at that, and Niall holds his hand out for Finchy's phone. Nick finds his way back to being able to speak fairly quickly, awkwardness of Harry's question fading fast. "But now we've got a problem on our hands, because we'd prepared for Niall to introduce the new record, and we practiced off air and everything, but now there are two of you. You'll have to fight it out." 

"What do you think, Harry, rock paper scissors?" 

"I think that would give me an unfair advantage because I can see you on the webcam and you only have mine and Puppy's word for it that I've done what I've said." 

"Puppy… Are you at my house Harold?" Nick asks. He's pinching the bridge of his nose now. "Finchy did you phone him at my _house_?" 

"I thought Puppy might want the company," Harry lies. He'd definitely been planning to ambush Nick when he got home, but Nick really does hate surprises, and having Harry call in is probably enough for one day. "I'm sure she hates waking up alone." 

"Takes after her dad, then," Nick says. "But we still haven't solved the problem. See I don't think Harry should be allowed to introduce it because he's only called in to make trouble after Niall cleaned himself up and came down to the studio with us." 

"That's fair," Fiona says.

"I'd have to agree with Nick," Niall chimes in. "I showered and everything." 

"Matt would love you even if you were minging," Nick says. 

"That's probably true," Harry agrees. "Everyone loves Niall Horan." 

"Well there you have it," Nick says. "Niall, why don't you introduce your new record and then we'll play it." 

"Right, well, I'm Niall from One Direction, but you probably all know that by now. This is our new single, Midnight Memories." 

"Sounds exciting," Nick says. "Text us what you think of it, and we'll read them to Niall after it's over." 

"Not Harry?" Niall asks. 

"I've already hung up on him," Nick says. "He can listen in and text us like everyone else." 

It's definitely a lie, since Nick's only put Harry on hold again, but the record starts and then his phone buzzes in his ear just as he sees Nick on the webcam put his phone back on his desk. 

He's right, it's a text from Nick. _We should talk. NOT on air this time._

 _That's why I'm at your house_ , Harry replies. He doesn't get anything else, and the line goes dead. He doesn't turn the sound back on in the studio just yet, just watches Niall chatting easily to Nick and the rest of the breakfast crew.

6.

Nick gets home closer to eleven, and by then Harry's already taken Puppy for a quick walk around the park, taken a dozen pictures with fans (he probably shouldn't have said anything about being at Nick's on air, since most people know which neighborhood he lives in), and had three cups of tea. His heart is fluttering with nerves, like the butterfly on his chest is actually alive inside him. He's been keeping the kettle hot, so that he can pour Nick a cup of tea as soon as he hears the key in the lock, and it's halfway to being brewed just like Nick likes it by the time he appears in the kitchen, Puppy scuttling along at his heels. 

"She been out?" He asks. 

"Yeah, took her out after you hung up on me, before everyone had a chance to descend on your house. There aren't any photographers out there, are there?" 

Nick shakes his head. "That was really stupid, Hazza." 

He sounds tired, more than just the standard 'woke up in the middle of the night for work' tired. Tired like it's in his bones, and Harry knows what that's like; he's feeling it himself. He fishes the teabag out of Nick's mug and dumps it in the sink before pushing the mug across the counter.

"I didn't have a choice," Harry says. "You've been avoiding me." 

"That doesn't mean you need to surprise me on air. Do you know how many angry tweets I've gotten in the last hour? They all think I'm mad at you." 

"Aren't you, though?" Harry asks. "You haven't talked to me in ages."

"I've seen plenty of times."

Harry shakes his head. "I mean properly talked to me. Not drunkenly chatting at me and Aimee or Pix at the same time. You haven't properly talked to me since Valentine's." 

And there it is. There's the face that Harry hates; Nick's eyes scrunch up with concern, and he purses his lips like he's searching for the right thing to say. And maybe he is. Maybe they really have spent all their words in the last few years of easy friendship. Suddenly, Harry can't stay still. Nick's kitchen is cloyingly close and he's about to jump out of his skin. Instead of waiting for Nick to find his way to whatever he thinks are the right things to say, Harry stands. 

"I've got to go," he says. "I've got to clean myself up then I'm due at the studio with Liam for Scott's show." 

"Come back after, yeah?" 

Harry hesitates as he shrugs into his coat. "Maybe I shouldn't. Do you even want me to?"

"Oh god, of course I do, Haz." 

"You've done a fantastic job pretending otherwise."

Harry's facing the door, one hand on the handle, but he can't quite bring himself to open it yet. He's held onto this hope for so long and it feels that going back out through that door will extinguish the last bits of it. 

He barely hears Nick coming up behind him and the hand on his shoulder makes him jump. He turns his head and let's Nick ease him back around. Let's his eyes flutter shut as Nick's hand comes up to cup his cheek, thumb brushing over Harry's lips, barely making contact, just enough to make Harry involuntarily gasp. 

He wonders how much is showing on his face; probably everything, he's never been good at hiding his heart. He just doesn't want to open his eyes to see what Nick's thinking. 

"Come back, and we'll talk." Nick's voice is soft and pleading, both of them hanging on to shreds of their friendship now. 

Harry nods, and pulls away. "See you later." 

\---

"We have Harry Styles and Liam Payne of One Direction in the studio today," Scott Mills says. "Or rather they will be here in an hour or so, and we'll switch on the webcams. Text or tweet us your questions if you have them, and we'll ask as many as we can." 

Liam's waiting for Harry in the lobby of the new studio by the time Harry gets there. They're due on air in about ten minutes, and Harry's been listening on the way over so he knows that he'll definitely be asked about what's going on with Nick. He considers telling Scott not to ask the questions, but refusing to say anything is probably only going to call more attention. 

He'd talked to the rest of the lads between times and they'd decided to play it off as a joke, with Harry deciding not to go on Breakfast himself. He's come way too close to exposing the rawness of their current relationship already, and if he has a hope in hell of repairing everything then he needs the lads behind him.

Liam squeezes his shoulder as they walk in and get settled. Chris switches on the webcam, and then it's time. 

"Welcome Liam Payne and Harry Styles!" 

"We're glad to be here," Liam says, taking over the easy chatter. He's good at that. Harry is definitely thankful because he knows the questions will come for him. He's right. 

"We have roughly a thousand questions about your unplanned appearance on the Breakfast show, Harry." 

"It wasn't unplanned," Harry says. "At least not on our end. We vote on everything, and when we decided who was doing what interviews the original plan was for me to go on Breakfast." 

"So when did that change? Obviously it did." 

"It did. We thought that Niall might like to go on instead, because he's Matt's favorite. And Showbot's. And Niall agreed to do the early shift. I then decided to call in and arranged it all with Finchy as a joke on Grimmy."

"I can tell you that all of our listeners were very surprised." 

"And so was Grimmy," Liam adds. "Mission accomplished."

"Are you worried that Niall might take you place with the breakfast crew?" 

"Not at all," Harry says. He's lying, and Liam knows it, and he puts his hand on Harry's knee under the desk in solidarity.

The rest of the interview is forgettable, and they introduce the record, say goodbye to Scott and leave the studio. 

For all that he loves his job, sometimes Harry hates his job because there's a small crush of people outside waiting for them. He smiles and takes pictures and signs things, trying to get to everyone even though he's about to jump out of his skin. There are two cars waiting for them, and Harry climbs into one, waving at Liam as he climbs into the other. 

He fiddles with his phone, reads a few messages on twitter at random, but doesn't reply to any of them. He'd probably say something stupid anyway, and he knows that no matter what, the internet never forgets, especially when it's about them. 

He has a key, but even though he's expected, he feels odd using it, so he knocks, listening for the sounds of Puppy's claws on the floors and Nick's heavy footsteps. By the time Nick answers, he looks even more haggard than before, hair sticking up in mad, disorganized tufts. He doesn't say anything, just steps back and lets Harry in. 

There's a cup of tea on the counter in the mug Harry's come to think of as his, a gesture mirroring his own from earlier, and his stomach falls somewhere nearer his knees than where it's supposed to be. This, this is what he wants. Harry knows that Nick wants it too, even if it's not with Harry. That's the worst part. 

It burns his tongue when he sips it, but he swallows past it, and sets the mug on the coffee table. Maybe he should have some wine for this. They'd been more than half drunk when this had started anyway. Maybe it'll take more alcohol for them to actually get to what they're both trying to say. 

For all that Nick talks for a living, he's remarkably good at avoiding conversations and staying silent. It drives Harry absolutely insane most of the time. He's not all that good at talking about his feelings either, but three years experience living, traveling and performing with four other lads has taught him that not talking about what's bothering you just leads to more problems. He'd cite this moment as a prime example if he were teaching a class. 

"You could have just told me no," Harry says. It's likely better for them both just to rip the plaster off. "I thought… I thought you didn't like me anymore. That you were done being friends with me and we'd have to arrange visitation with everyone so we wouldn't run into each other." 

Nick's eyes go wide at that, and Harry wants to look anywhere but at the naked hurt on Nick's face, but he forces himself to keep eye contact. 

"That's, god, Hazza, that's so far from the truth." Nick takes a long sip, but Harry can tell that he's in the middle of a thought so he takes a sip of his own, without burning his tongue this time, and waits. 

It's another minute before Nick speaks again. "I just needed some space. To get over you. I always want to be your friend." 

"To get over me?" Harry's getting louder, he can tell, but he can't quite control that right now. "So my coming on to you three times, the fact that we slept together made you back out? Was I that bad in bed that I scared you off?" Harry's mostly joking, but Nick's eyes cut to the side quickly, looking at the corner of the kitchen, which is spotless and lacking a small Jack Russell, so it can't be that Puppy's just suddenly captured his attention, or that Nick's suddenly concerned with the washing up. 

"That's it, isn't it?" Harry asks. "I was trying to make a joke, but that's the truth. You _bastard_." 

"You'd have talked me out of all the other reasons we shouldn't be doing this," Nick says, voice quiet, a slight tremble marring his otherwise perfect diction. "And I would have let you, because you're right, I want this too. But bad sex is an awful foundation for a relationship."

"You realize that this is possibly the stupidest thing I've ever heard come out of your mouth. And I listen to the show all the time. You once asked me if I was pregnant by Louis. Live on Radio." 

Nick laughs, which is progress. "That's not a fair comparison," Nick says. "The Beeb pay me to be entertaining. I try not to be stupid with my friends." 

"I know. Which is why I'm so puzzled that you didn't just say something to me after. Or during. I can take instruction, you know. I occasionally listen when people tell me I should be doing things." 

"Only occasionally." 

"Exactly. For instance," Harry stands and walks around the counter so that he's standing right in front of Nick, crowding into his space, and cupping Nick's cheek in his hand, fingers digging into his messy hair. "I'm sure you're about to tell me that I shouldn't be doing this, but I'm going to anyway."

Harry gently leans down and touches his lips to Nick's. It's soft and chaste, but Harry lingers a few seconds too long, breathing in Nick's scent and relishing the close contact that he'd been missing. That's what had hurt more than anything, the loss of those easy, casual, friendly touches. Harry's a tactile person, and comfortable enough with the declaration that he doesn't mind letting the world know. "I missed you," he breathes into Nick's ear, pressing even closer. "Don't do that again." 

"Haz," Nick says in return, his voice cracking. This time he's the one who pulls Harry in even closer. 

It's a long time before Harry feels that he can let go without Nick pulling back completely, but he eventually does, grabbing Nick's hand and leading him into the bedroom. "Let's start over. I want to make you feel amazing." 

Nick laughs at that, an unintentional snort that comes out right in Harry's face. He frowns. "I'm not joking."

"I know. But that is possibly the most ridiculous thing you can say to someone you're about to sleep with." 

Harry smiles. "This is progress. I've done something you don't like, and you've told me. We should have done this ages ago." 

"You realize you're about to have sex with someone who narrates his life on a daily basis. Who has made a living off it." 

Harry hits him. "This isn't for radio. I want to know what makes you hot so I can do that to you. I want you to know what does it to me. And I want us to talk about what _doesn't_ work so that we never do it again, and so that you don't avoid me for another month because you don't want to talk about sex." 

Nick stills, and breathes out for a long moment before reaching up to cup Harry's face and pull him in for more kisses. Harry presses up against him, smiling. 

"Tell me what you want." He doesn't give Nick time to respond right away, though, because he leans back in and monopolizes Nick's mouth for another few minutes. 

When they finally pull back to breathe, Harry tips Nick's head up so he can look straight into his eyes. "Tell me," he repeats. 

Nick takes control and spins them so that he's pushing Harry towards the bed. "I," he says, pushing Harry back and landing on his hands and knees over Harry, "I want to blow you. And then I want you to fuck me." 

Harry swallows, skin glowing hot. "Yeah. We can do that." He pulls Nick down to kiss again, and then without much preamble shoves him down towards his dick, which is hard and straining against his jeans. It's not getting very far, since they're pretty tight, but they give prizes for effort sometimes. 

It doesn't matter for long, though, because Nick is undoing the buttons and pulling them down his hips just far enough to free him and swallow him down. Harry can't help but buck up into his mouth, but Nick pins him down with arms that are a lot stronger than they look. Or maybe it's that Harry can't get much leverage out of his legs when his jeans are only halfway down his thighs and limiting his movement. Nick's fingers are digging into the dips of his hips, and probably leaving red marks, but Harry doesn't actually care because Nick's doing a swirly thing with his tongue, alternating that with flat pressure and suction and Harry isn't going to last much longer. 

"I'm - " he manages to get out through the clutch of his orgasm in his chest, and Nick pulls off, keeping up the movement with a hand, wanking Harry until he comes, dripping down off Nick's fingers and onto his stomach. 

Nick keeps up the movement for a bit, until Harry has to literally pull him off and drag him in for a kiss and a cuddle. 

"Was that so bad?" Harry asks, teasing. 

"Hmmmm," Nick says. "That's the easy part. Still want you to fuck me." 

Nick is pressing close, and Harry can feel his still-hard cock against his hip. He bucks up against it to see Nick's face at the movement, and his heavy-lidded eyes and parted lips are exactly what he wanted to find. 

"So how do I do that?" Harry asks with a smile. "Want to make it good for you." 

Nick waves a hand towards the nightstand. "Lube. Condoms. Drawer. Cabinet." 

Harry has to stretch to reach the drawer, but he manages to get his fingers on the bottle of lube, then realizes that he has to get up to go get condoms. He settles in closer in protest, but Nick pushes at his shoulder. "Go on. You're young and full of energy. You can make it to the bathroom and back." 

He goes, stopping to take his jeans and pants all the way off, shucking his shirt in the process, too. By the time he finds the condoms and gets back to the bedroom, he finds that Nick's done the same, and pulled back the duvet so they can be properly in bed. He's lazily stroking himself, watching Harry move around, like they have all the time in the world. Which, from early afternoon on a Friday, maybe they do. Harry's getting hard again at the sight in front of him, and he nearly trips over his own feet on his way back to the bed, landing sprawled at Nick's side, and in the wrong position to kiss him, so he bites at the bit of arm he can reach with his mouth. 

"Oi. None of that," Nick says. "Just because you and the lads like pinching and poking each other doesn't mean the rest of us enjoy it." 

"Don't lets talk about the lads in bed," Harry says, making a face and pressing a gentle kiss to the skin he'd just made red in silent apology.

Nick laughs. "So I shouldn't tell you about the dream I had with Zayn Malik the other night. He was well up for it." 

"And now I'm tempted to hit you again." 

Nick says nothing, but Harry knows he's pulling a face, and he sees exactly what he expects when he cranes his neck to see. Nick's eyes are laughing, though, so Harry still counts it as a win. 

"We'll explore that biting habit of yours some other time, love," Nick says gently. "Right now we've other things to see to." 

Harry breathes out and ruts gently against Nick's thigh, just enough to demonstrate how ready he is for this. 

"Budge up," Nick says, scooting down and spreading his thighs apart. Harry watches as he grabs the lube from where it's been mostly forgotten by the pillows and lets some dribble down onto his fingers before reaching down to slide his long fingers down over his opening. "Preparation is key," Nick says, before pushing one of his fingers inside. 

Harry moves so that he's kneeling between Nick's legs, watching as Nick slowly opens himself, one finger at first, and then two. 

"Can I?" Harry asks, voice coming out low and rough. 

Nick uses his other hand to draw Harry in. "Watch your fingernails, go slow."

Harry bites his lips, suddenly a bit nervous. He really doesn't want to hurt Nick. Nick notices the hesitation because he catches Harry's cheek in his hand and smoothes his thumb over Nick's lips. "I won't break. Come on." 

So he does. He palms Nick's cock, lingering as it jumps under his touch, before reading down to feel where Nick's fingers are working, slowly, gently. When he does slide one in alongside Nick's own, he gasps at the wet heat that's clenching at him. He can hear Nick doing the same, can feel how much Nick likes it in his fingertip, and has to stop for a moment, letting the warmth of everything settle into him. This is better than drunken blowjobs, more intimate; he's literally inside Nick. He's not sure he can handle more. He wants to, though. He absolutely wants to feel more of Nick. 

"You alright?" Nick's voice breaks into his thoughts and pulls him back. 

"Yeah." The word is barely formed, but Nick seems to hear what he's saying anyway. 

"Give us a little more." 

Harry does, sliding his finger in deeper, moving around and following Nick's murmured instructions. He stills when Nick suddenly arches his back, worried that he's done something wrong, even though it looks like Nick actually loves it. 

"Again," Nick demands, and Harry slides his fingers around, looking for that spot again, looking to drive Nick as crazy as he's feeling right now. After a minute more Nick pulls his hand out, and Harry's, and tosses a condom at him. "I think you know what to do with that." 

Harry fumbles the condom in his shaking and slippery fingers, but he manages to get the packet open, and slide it down his cock quickly, trying not to get himself too close in the process. Nick passes him the lube and Harry squirts some out onto his dick, spreading it around. 

"Come here," Nick says, spreading his thighs further apart and reaching down to place Harry in the right position. Harry's shaking now, and he's pretty sure Nick can feel it, but his hands are gentle and calming, leaving traces of heat in their wake. When Nick hooks a leg over Harry's arm, he can feel the same tremble in Nick, too. "Showtime, Haz. Come on, then." 

This part is familiar and new at the same time. There's more resistance from Nick as he pushes in, and he goes slower to compensate, feeling Nick stretch around him, but he knows how to do this part. The familiar motion brings him back from the edge, and he focuses on Nick's face again, leaning down to kiss him gently as he rolls his hips and ends up fully inside Nick. 

He has to pause for a minute, to just feel this. They may be able to understand each other's weird tangents and stories, but this is a different kind of close. 

"Start slow," Nick says, and Harry nods. "You feel good, Harold. Amazing." 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah. Now move." 

Harry does. He tries to go slow, but it doesn't last long, he needs more, and his hips speed up. Nick isn't complaining, and is instead gripping him harder, on his arms, with his legs around Harry's hips, and bucking up to meet Harry when he can. Harry is so lost in the movement that he nearly misses Nick sneaking his hand down to grip his own cock, moving in erratic little thrusts, sometimes matching him and sometimes not, but it hardly matters. 

He feels it when Nick comes, silent for this one part of his life, but hardly still or calm. Harry can feel the clench of his arse, his legs, his fingers, so tight it nearly hurts and for an absurd second Harry wonders if Nick's grip is going to warp his tattoos. It's probably the stupidest thing he's ever thought in the middle of sex, and he'll have to share with Nick later. 

Now, though, he's on the edge and can't keep a steady rhythm at all, not with Nick whispering endearments in his ear, moving his hands, sticky with lube and his own cum up Harry's chest. He scrapes a nail over Harry's nipple and that does it, his hips snap forward and he's coming, orgasm rolling over him and settling into all the points where Nick is touching him, which might as well be everywhere. 

Slowly, Harry lowers himself onto Nick, stealing a kiss. Nick lets him stay for a minute before pushing at him. Harry doesn't want to move, but he also doesn't want Nick to be uncomfortable, so he pulls out and tosses the condom in the vicinity of the bin. They can deal with it later. 

"Better?" Harry asks. He thinks that it was good for Nick this time, but he wants the verbal assurance after the last few weeks. If he thought he could get away with it he'd make Nick sign an affidavit. 

"Yeah," Nick agrees, kissing the top of Harry's head and tangling sticky fingers in his hair. 

"You're wrong, you know," Harry says, from his position tucked up under Nick's chin. This is perfect, and he never wants to move. 

"About what?" 

"Foundations. Relationships. Stuff." He waves a hand around lazily before settling it back on Nick's chest and curling microscopically closer. 

Nick laughs, and Harry can feel it in his bones, warming him up again and making him feel settled again, like he's finally tied down and not floating free into space where he'd die from lack of being able to breathe. "Am I now?"

Harry hums in agreement. "Your definitions are wrong." 

"Shall we go out and buy a dictionary then?" Nick is carding his fingers through Harry's hair, and as much as he loves that and doesn't want it to stop he needs to be looking at Nick when they have this conversation. 

He slides his leg across Nick's and pushes himself up on one arm so that he can look Nick square in the eyes. "You said that bad sex isn't a good foundation for a relationship, but you're wrong." 

Nick doesn't respond to that, just looks at Harry with too-wide eyes, lashes casting small shadows on his cheeks. Harry ghosts a finger over them and watches as Nick's eyes flutter closed. 

"You build on foundations. You build relationships on friendship, on trust, on love. I could say that I'm in a relationship with my band and be absolutely correct saying that." 

"So you're saying you've had sex with the lads." 

"Well, nights on the bus can get quite long…." 

Nick's jaw drops. "Well there's an exclusive. Not that people on the internet haven't been saying that for years."

Harry puts his hand over Nick's mouth to stop him talking. He has a point to make. "No, you ass. I'm saying that sex doesn't make a relationship. Sex is a bonus."

Nick bucks his hips up into Harry's, and Harry smacks him. "I'm being serious. Save that for later."

Harry suspects that he is spectacularly bad at sticking to his point because he leans in to kiss away the pout forming on Nick's lips. It takes a few minutes for Harry to remember that he's trying to have a serious discussion, but he eventually pulls away and smiles down at Nick.

"We aren't going to be young and beautiful forever."

"Thanks for the reminder, popstar." There's a not entirely small hint of bitterness in Nick's voice, which twists its way into Harry's heart, and he has to kiss Nick again to smooth it out. 

He pulls away quickly this time, though. "I mean, I still want to spend my nights with you when we're too old to get it up." Harry ducks his head quickly, afraid that he's given away too much. His face is hot where he presses it to Nick's neck, but Nick just squeezes him closer and doesn't say anything for a long time. 

When he surfaces again, he finds Nick looking at him, a fond look in his eyes and a soft smile on his lips. "Yeah, alright. As long as you want."

[fin]


End file.
